For the First Time
by sburke94
Summary: Aria and Ezra are no longer together. What will an unexpected run-in at the coffee shop bring?
1. Chapter 1

I miss _us. _The first time I realize this, it's not even so much about us as it is about _them_. They were sitting two tables over from me at the coffeehouse, holding hands and laughing at some private joke only they would understand. There was nothing extraordinary about them, just a nondescript young couple enjoying lattes together on a rainy Sunday morning—yet in that simplicity was everything. _We _used to be just like _them. _

That breaks my heart. It's been three months since we called it quits, three long months since I last saw you—an eternity and the blink of an eye rolled into one. I watch them intently, trying to convince myself that the jealousy and misery I'm feeling isn't because I miss you—as I said before, I miss _us. _I miss the closeness of another human being, the tenderness of a kiss, the pain of smiling so broadly my cheeks ache. That is what I miss. I, Aria Montgomery, certainly do not miss you, Ezra Fitz.

But I've already proven that, haven't I…haven't I?

I always thought that life without you would be unbearable; that as cliché as it sounds, life without you would be no life at all. It isn't. Life is still life. I go to school. I write. I hang out with my friends. I eat dinner with my family. I shop. I paint. I read. It's scary really, how easily you were erased from life. Save a few lonely Saturdays and the poem you wrote me—which, no matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to get rid of—it's like there was never an_ us_, never a _you. _

And it's better that way, isn't it?

It has to be.

That couple two tables over leaves and I'm left to stare out the window, my gaze following each cold droplet of January rain as it pelts the pane. It was raining the last time I saw you, you know, at the bus stop two blocks from here.

The bell over the door chimes, and I glance up just in time to see a dark shock of brown curly hair peeking out from beneath a Yankees cap and an all too familiar Hollis sweatshirt. I'm not sure whether to break into one of those painful grins I mentioned earlier or cry as you catch my eye. You move towards my table, and I swear my heart is thundering loud enough for you to hear. But whatever greeting your about to give me is cut off by a shout of "Ezra, over here!"

You smile, and it's only a few seconds later as you move past me without so much as a hello, that I realize it wasn't for me. It was for _her—_the blonde woman sitting a few booths back. You once told me that brunettes were your thing; I guess times, and you, have changed. You lean forward and press a quick kiss to her lips—crying definitely seems the appropriate choice now.

A few minutes later, though it feels like hours, you glance my way again. A smile, one so genuine and pure that I can't help but return it, curves on your lips for the second time that day. In that small gesture, I can see that you're truly happy, that you truly care for the pretty girl sitting at the booth with you.

That's all I can take. Wordlessly, I gather my books and leave the coffee shop—the only thought providing me with solace, the only thing keeping me from truly crumbling to a sobbing, mascara streaked mess, is that _I had you first. _


	2. Chapter 2

_You miss us too. _When I realize this a few weeks later, we're standing face to face at Barnes and Noble. I'm holding a new brown leather journal; you're gripping a paperback copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird _like your life depends on it.

"Hey." The greeting is a terse whisper, and coming from you it sounds so unnatural. From the way you're shifting back and forth I can tell you're uneasy—I'm making you nervous. Why?

Your eyes stare into mine, blue on hazel, and in those cerulean depths I understand. This is the first time we've spoken in months. The last time it was only a smile. A smile, for all its meanings, is relatively simple. It's a gesture, nothing more. Words though, carry the weight of the world. Ironic isn't it that both of us pride ourselves on being writers yet we are at a loss for words?

"Hi." I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and glance down at the book in your hand. "Don't you already have three copies of that?"

You chuckle nervously and flip through the first few pages. "It's not for me. I've loaned out the ones I already have. This one's for a student who can't afford one."

My lips quirk up and my heart gives a little lurch. You're always generous, putting yourself before others. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. "That's nice of you."

You shrug like it's nothing. "I do what I can. What about you? Fill up another notebook?"

I can't help but grin. "Guilty. I've been working on a novel—it's almost done."

"Can I read it?" You sound so eager when you ask, and for a minute my mind flashes back to that day we met. It's like you're asking to know more about me all over again—though this time you already know more about me than anyone else does or ever will.

"Sure. I'll let you know when I'm finished. So…" I trail off as I feel your fingers reach up to push that lock of hair back behind my ear again. It never stays. It's like we're frozen in that moment, your eyes on mine again.

"Aria." You smile shakily and exhale. Your eyes are darker and I recognize the flash of uncertainty in them. I feel it too. I've always felt it. My hand closes over yours, and for the briefest of seconds we're palm to palm, and though it sounds cheesy, we might as well be heart to heart.

"Ezra!"

You jerk away as if you've been burned, and I glance up just in time to see the blonde from the coffee shop appear behind you.

"Are you ready?"

You glance from her to me and back to her again. "Yeah. Lily, this is Aria, a former student of mine. Aria, this is Lily, my girlfriend" You don't even stumble over the last word. She smiles and it's genuine and I don't think I've ever felt more helpless.

"It's nice to meet you. "

"You too." I've never really felt like the third wheel, but now I couldn't be more of an outsider. "Well, I better be getting home. Maybe I'll see you around again Mr. Fitz."

A sad smile crosses my lips and I head towards the checkout. A final glance over my shoulder reveals the two of you holding hands and talking animatedly. A mournful sigh escapes me.

Sometimes even soul mates aren't meant to be.


End file.
